


And they will keep you close

by acidpop25



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidpop25/pseuds/acidpop25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boundaries are for other teams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And they will keep you close

"Arthur!" Tilly's voice from the bedroom sounds anything but pleased, and Arthur frowns and sticks his head out of the bathroom to see her glaring at him.

"Yes?"

" _This_ is definitely not mine," she says, holding up a pale blue cotton bra disdainfully by one of the straps, "so even if you're going to try and convince me you're into crossdressing, you have some serious explaining to do."

Arthur sighs and steps into the bedroom. His ex-boyfriend before Tilly had blown up at him over the same issue, but Tilly has always been much more reasonable.

"Not that I wouldn't be willing to try it if that's what turned you on," he says, "but no, I'm not into crossdressing. Ariadne keeps some stuff here in case she needs to crash at my apartment, is all. I'm the only one with a place in New York."

"Ariadne." It's flatly said, Tilly's wide blue eyes narrowing to slits, and Arthur sighs inwardly. He's probably going to be down both a girlfriend and a back-up forger at the end of this conversation.

"Yes, Ariadne. Eames and Dom do too, it's not a big deal."

"It's a big deal to _me_ that you have some other girl's underwear in your dresser drawer!"

"It's not like I've seen her in them," Arthur says, and even though it's technically a lie Tilly doesn't need to know that– it's not like it was sexual. Except Tilly is a forger, Tilly reads people, so of course she can _tell_ he's lying.

She slaps him right across the face and strides out of the apartment, and Arthur winces and lets himself fall back on his bed, reaching for his cell phone on the nightstand. It's early, and earlier still in Chicago, but she can suck it up, Arthur decides, and dials Ariadne's number.

"It's fucking early," Ariadne greets him, her voice groggy, "what's up?"

"Your bra got me slapped this morning."

"Huh? Oh. Sorry." She yawns on the other end of the line, and Arthur smiles to himself. "I can take the stuff if it's a thing. Isn't this the second one?"

"Well, technically Marc punched me, so it's actually the first."

"Arthur."

"It's not a thing."

"Sounds like a thing."

"I'm not dating anyone who can't deal with me being close with my team. Discussion over."

He can almost hear her smile on the other end of the line. "You gonna be okay? I can make some time if you need a shoulder."

Arthur shakes his head even though she can't see him. "I'll be fine. It wasn't serious, really, I just... I liked her, is all."

"You'll find somebody else," she says like it's a simple factual matter, "you're hot and you play for both teams."

He chuckles. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Though if you could _try_ for those times not to be at... fuck, Arthur, six in the morning?"

"Sorry. Go back to sleep."

"You too, Jesus, why are you even awake, no, don't tell me, I'm too tired to care."

"Get some rest," he tells her, and flips his phone shut. After a moment's consideration, he takes Ariadne's suggestion and tugs the covers back up. He doesn't have anywhere to be today.

* * *

"Dom!" Ariadne pounds on the bathroom door of the house the team is renting for their current job, but it's more a cursory gesture than anything else before she barges in. He jumps but doesn't look particularly perturbed, mostly just startled.

"Emergency?" he asks, and she shakes her head.

"No, no." Her hands flutter. "I think I figured out how to fix the second level!"

"And it couldn't wait until I was clean?" Dom asks, but he chuckles and pushes his wet hair back. "Okay. Talk to me."

"I think what we need is a variation on that split-floor mall design we did on the LaGrange job. If we just..." she looks around the room and frowns. "Shit, I need something to draw on."

"Get in here," Dom suggests, "you can use the steam."

Ariadne brightens. "Right! You're cool with that?"

"Ariadne, I'm already discussing architecture with you while I'm naked, through a glass door."

"Fair." She strips out of her clothes and gets into the shower with him– Dom shies away from the cool air she lets in, and Ariadne elbows him out of her way to start sketching a diagram of her idea, explaining as she goes. It's a cramped space, Dom pressed right against her back when he reaches to add lines of his own, expanding on her hastily-sketched plans over her shoulder, but neither of them thinks to be concerned until the water goes cold and the steam begins to fade.

"Maybe we should do this on paper," Dom says wryly, and she giggles.

"Maybe. Is there an extra towel?"

"Sure."

Arthur laughs at them when they both reappear in the living room, their hair dripping and fingers wrinkled, but says only, "Architects," his tone fond, before returning to his research as they spread fresh paper on the drafting table.

* * *

"Oh God," Dom moans, burying his face in the pillow, "why am I _alive?_ "

He hears a sympathetic noise from the other side of the room– Yusuf's voice. "You are going to have much more pressing questions once the hangover is better, my friend," he says, and Dom hears footsteps approaching, careful but still audible. "Here, drink this."

Dom reaches a hand out and takes the glass of liquid Yusuf hands him without question, lifting his head just enough to down it. It tastes bitter and unpleasant, but if Dom trusts anyone to cure a hangover, it's Yusuf.

"What do you mean, more pressing questions?" Dom asks, once the words have registered. His eyes are still firmly shut against the light, and he's inclined to keep it that way.

"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?"

"Depends what happened." The throbbing drums in his skull are beginning to ease, so Dom chances cracking his eyes open. It's not as bad as he'd feared– whatever Yusuf gave him seems to be working pretty well.

His field of vision seems to be filled with something alarmingly pink. "What the–"

"Boa," Yusuf supplies, "feather boa."

"Where did it come from?"

A shrug. "A stripper, I presume. Isn't that where feather boas are found in this town?"

Dom sighs. "I guess it could be worse."

Yusuf makes a noncommittal noise, but it's the kind of noncommittal that Dom immediately finds deeply worrying.

"What?" He sits up, surveying the bed, and frowns. His shirt is hopelessly torn, and there's glitter all over the room, and way too many empty drinks. Among other things.

"Zucchini?" Dom asks helplessly, and Yusuf coughs.

"Possibly we got hungry."

Dom's eyes continue to scan the room. "Oil?"

"Possibly we were going to cook it."

"Purple bra?"

"...Perhaps we weren't."

Dom groans and collapses back on the bed. "We never speak of this again." A pause. "There's a live parrot on the ceiling fan."

Yusuf shrugs. "I don't remember either."

"Nothing happened."

"Agreed."

* * *

"The last time I did you a favour I ended up chained in a shed in Cambodia," Yusuf says, "I just want you to remember that."

"You're a mate, Yusuf," Eames agrees, slinging his arm over the other man's shoulder as they walk up the drive to Eames' enormous childhood home. His younger sister opens the door and practically flings her arms around Eames, then kisses Yusuf on the cheek for good measure. "Come in, come in, before Aunt Madison corners me and I have to hear an hour on why aren't you married yet, Theresa, you're such a lovely girl."

Eames frowns. "I was so hoping she wouldn't come."

"Since when does she miss a family reunion? Perfect chance to torture us all." She turns to Yusuf and smiles brightly. "Hi, I'm Theresa, I'm Jack's sister, and I could really use a pretend date."

Yusuf looks faintly bemused, but allows Theresa to steer him off under the guise of "showing him around." Eames has no illusions– Yusuf will end this day with at least a couple new pieces of blackmail material from Eames' past, and when she's not being hounded by the women of the Eames clan to settle down Theresa is wonderful company.

They don't reappear for almost twenty minutes, and when they do Eames pours more drinks and slips away from his mother to steer them outside to the gardens.

"You owe me. Both of you."

Yusuf grins at him. "You're the one who wanted company at your family party."

"Because you've done such a wonderful job of that so far," Eames drawls.

"Knight in shining armour," Yusuf replies, smirking. "I saved your little sister."

"My little sister can save herself, don't let her convince you otherwise. She's hardly a bloody damsel in distress."

Theresa shrugs. "I use what tools I have at my disposal, including being a cute girl. I appreciate it though, Yusuf."

Yusuf glances between them. "You're not actually siblings, are you," he says dryly, "you're clones."

"Don't be absurd, Yusuf," Eames replies, "I'm only a woman in your dreams."

* * *

"Who wants to be my pretend husband?" Eames asks, fluttering currently feminine eyelashes at the rest of the team. Dom looks put-upon.

"I did it last time."

Eames smiles. "So you did. Oh Arthur darling..." she sing-songs. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

"How much will you have to molest me to keep your cover?"

"Only a little."

"I know your definition of 'a little,' Eames," he says dryly.

"I don't see the problem here. Unless the forgery isn't to your taste?"

Arthur tilts his head. "Not particularly, now that you mention. Blondes aren't my thing."

"What are your thoughts on redheads?"

Dom barks a laugh. "He used to date one."

Arthur ignores him. "Redheads are acceptable," he says, and Eames' hair obligingly changes color.

"There, darling," Eames says, linking their arms, "I'm sure the ceremony was beautiful."

"I bet it made Dom cry," Ariadne chirps, and Arthur cracks a wry smile and grabs hold of the female facsimile of Eames to dip her into a kiss.

"What was that for?"

"Thought I'd let you get your trouble-making out of the way _before_ the job," Arthur replies calmly, and pulls her back up. "You've no excuse to be making out with me to hide from the projections, now."

"You mean like you did to me on the Inception job?" Ariadne remarks, and Arthur shrugs, unrepentant.

"That was a peck," he corrects her, "and anyway I thought there was a very good chance we might all die. You're cute."

"Oh _good_ ," she retorts sarcastically, "nice to know I'll do if you're in mortal danger."

Eames snickers, and Dom clears his throat.

"Everybody back topside. We still have work to do."

* * *

"I hope you understand the gravity of your request," Dom says to their client, brow furrowed. "Inception is–"

"–not impossible," Eames interjects, "but bloody difficult."

"Your mind can always trace the genesis of an idea," Dom continues, and Arthur knows what's next already, his elephant metaphor, but it's Ariadne who repeats it. Ariadne, who hadn't even been there in that plane with Saito. Arthur can't recall if he had told her about it after the fact or not.

Possibly, he muses as he steals a sip of Eames' wine, they've all just spent much, much too long inside one another's heads.

As the meeting draws to a close, their client shakes his head in faint bewilderment.

"I was told that if anyone can do this job, it's your team," he says, "but Samuels was quite right when he said you were a little strange, to be frank."

They just laugh.


End file.
